


Running Lines

by mrs_leary (julie)



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Episode: s02e10 Sweet Dreams, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 04:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14512428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/mrs_leary
Summary: Silly and slightly drunk (although Colin would never admit to such a thing), Colin is helping Bradley run dialogue for a scene with Arthur and Gwen … but then Colin has ideas about how the scene might have played out differently with Arthur and Merlin.





	Running Lines

**Author's Note:**

  * For [archaeologist_d](https://archiveofourown.org/users/archaeologist_d/gifts).



> Written for the **Merlin RPF Prompt Fest 2018** , to a prompt by **archaeologist_d**. Set around episode 210 _Sweet Dreams_.

# Running Lines 

♦

Bradley had looked everywhere for Colin, and finally found him in what was no doubt the first place he should have tried: the hotel bar. There was Colin with the bartender, swapping a newly empty glass for one full of beer, with the happiest of grins on his face as if he hadn’t a care in the world. And he probably hadn’t either, the bastard, Bradley grumbled to himself. 

In the time it took Bradley to walk over there and slip into the narrow gap at Colin’s side – on the other side of him from his drinking companions – half the fresh beer was already gone. 

“Colin Morgan,” Bradley complained. “You said you’d run lines with me this evening, and here you are getting drunk.”

Colin turned to him with that grin turning roguish and those ocean-blue eyes twinkling with humour. “I’m not drunk,” he responded; “I’m Irish.”

Bradley snorted. “Same thing.”

“It is _not_ the same. It is not the _same thing_ at all!”

“I see. Well, what are you when you’re sober?”

Colin pondered this for a moment, and then his grin brightened impossibly further. “I wouldn’t know!”

“You’re just Irish, 24/7.”

“Yeah.” More beer went down the hatch, as if to prove it.

“Never hungover?”

Colin pondered for a moment, and conceded the point. “Occasionally that.” 

“Right.” Bradley shook his head, and then put on his serious face. “Look, Colin, I really need some help with this scene, all right? You’ve read it. The one with Gwen kissing Arthur in the tent.”

“In the tent … ?” Colin echoed, running a leery glance all over Bradley as if wondering where exactly that might be. _“Where don’t you want to be shot?”_ he murmured, entirely inconsequentially. _“Ecuador.”_

Which must be a quote, but Bradley was _not_ going to get side-tracked by film trivia. “Come on, Colin. Don’t make me beg.”

Colin winked at him despite Bradley’s complete lack of banter – but Colin was also turning away as if he really wasn’t interested. Which was a bit odd, because Colin always took the work seriously. Even if it was Bradley’s work rather than his own. “So, where’s Angel?” Colin asked over his shoulder. “Can’t you get Angel to help?”

“No. She’s a mate.”

Colin turned back to him with a raised eyebrow, though he appeared more curious than offended. “And what am I?”

Bradley was already scrambling to apologise. “That came out wrong. Fuck. You’re a mate, too. Of course. It’s just … it’s going to be weird enough kissing her when we’ve been friends so long, but there’s all this other stuff going on in the scene, too, and I just want to be _ready_ , you know? I don’t want to have to be thinking about absolutely _everything_ while we’re filming it.”

“All right.”

“I want to do it justice, yeah?”

“Yeah, sure. I get it.” Colin paused to tip the last of his beer down his throat, and then stepped past Bradley. “Night, fellas!” he called to his companions. “Never off duty, you know how it is … Come _on_ , then, Bradley,” Colin added impatiently a moment later as he held open the door that led out of the bar, turning to find that Bradley wasn’t already _right there_ at his heels.

Bradley let out a sharp breath, gathered himself, and then stepped after the man. A moment later they were striding down the dark, quiet corridor towards the stairwell, just the two of them.

For no reason he understood, Bradley James suddenly felt a lick of foreboding curl down low in his belly.

♦

Bradley unlocked the door of his room and led the way inside. “Drink?” he asked without turning around. Colin paced along behind him, his footfalls whisper-quiet on the thick carpet, and then from the sound of it he landed heavily on the bed. The door snicked shut with an odd sense of finality. “I mean,” Bradley added, “I don’t have any _drink_ – but I have plenty of bottled water. And milk in the ice bucket.”

Colin snickered at Bradley’s well-known and oft-maligned taste for milk. Which was hardly fair, but then Bradley remembered Colin’s whole lactose intolerance thing. 

“Not that you want any of the latter,” he smoothly continued, finally turning around to proffer a bottle of water. 

Colin was lying across Bradley’s bed. He reached a long arm for the water, and twisted the cap off without even looking. Instead, he was staring down hard at Bradley’s script, which lay where Bradley had left it on the counterpane. 

“Um …” Bradley mumbled. “So, anyway, you probably have the whole thing off by heart already.”

Those dark blue eyes lifted to stare hard at Bradley for a moment. “Not in this scene, am I? Just refreshing my memory.”

“Ah, no. Of course.”

That gaze dropped to the script for a moment, but then stabbed up again. “So many _notes_ , Bradley!”

“Yeah. I wanted to –”

“– do it justice, yeah. I get that. But _really_? All _this_?”

Bradley stepped closer to join Colin in staring down at his blue-biro scribbles filling all the white spaces on the page. And, OK, maybe he was indeed overdoing it. But it was important, surely. “ _This_ is the moment,” he started blurting in explanation. “This is a – a True Love Kiss, isn’t it. It’s a moment of _real_ truth between them. And it’s _real_ love – which the dragon says is stronger than magic. So it has to really count, see? In fact, I think it’s –” Bradley blushed a little, in case he was claiming too much dramatic weight for his own character. “I think this is the turning point of the whole episode.”

Colin was just lying there looking up at him. Watching him with careful consideration. Bradley forced himself not to burble on any more in an effort to fill the silence. 

Eventually Colin said, “Yeah? Not the moment when Arthur has Olaf beaten, but lets him live?”

Bradley shrugged a little. “Dunno. Maybe, yeah. But this is still important, right? And I want to –”

“OK.” Colin was suddenly springing to his feet full of energy, and heading back towards the door. “Let’s run through it, then. I’m Gwen.” And he took a breath, and shifted his stance – and his mobile face took on something of Angel’s own expression of determination, with which Bradley was all too familiar. 

Bradley gaped for a moment at this transformation, but then recalled himself. He turned away a little, shook himself all over, and then settled into Arthur’s enchanted obliviousness. Then he nodded at Colin, who bustled closer. 

_“Ah!”_ said Arthur, seeing Gwen come into the tent. _“Have you finally come to wish me luck? Because I really don’t think I need it any more.”_

_“No, Arthur.”_ Pitched just the slightest bit higher than his usual voice, and with a fair approximation of Angel’s accent. Colin was never anything other than impressive. _“I haven’t come to wish you luck.”_

Despite the magical oblivion, Arthur felt affronted. _“Well, honestly! That’s rather rude.”_

_“Then let me make amends.”_

Colin stepped closer still, and took Bradley’s face between his two hands, his palms and long fingers cool on Bradley’s skin. And he pushed in and pressed a chaste but deeply felt kiss to Bradley’s mouth.

In that moment, Bradley did not need to _act_ surprised. Had he anticipated this happening? He wasn’t sure. But how could he not have? Colin was never anything but thorough. 

The kiss held, and held – and Colin, with his eyes modestly closed, was playing his part. Gwen was brave enough to gift Arthur this moment of truth. It behoved Bradley to respond in kind – to both of them.

Bradley relaxed from his startled posture, and Arthur softened into the kiss, his interest caught. Then Arthur pressed closer in turn, as the spell and the falsity dropped away from him – and as his arms came up to embrace Gwen, to enfold her, she ran her hands back over his hair and wound her arms around his shoulders. Arthur leaned in, and she curved back and let him follow her, not surrendering so much as accepting his surrender, and the kiss became heartfelt, real. True.

Then it broke, and Arthur lifted his head, and the two of them gazed at each other, acknowledging this truth. This profoundly moving truth. Bradley – Arthur – no, Bradley grasped for his line, and could only thank god it was entirely apt. _“What am I doing?”_

Colin was still gazing at him, but now they both straightened up again, and separated a little. “ _Fuck_ , Bradley,” Colin whispered – the wrong words but in exactly the right voice – “you’re kissing me.”

Bradley winced as reality returned – and he could have pretended that was Arthur wincing as he abruptly felt the pain of his injuries. He could have pretended his own confusion was Arthur’s. But Bradley simply wasn’t capable of that kind of display right now. 

_“You’re in a fight,”_ Colin was obligingly trying to continue as Gwen. _“To the death.”_

“No, stop.” Bradley cast him a look, and turned away a little. Not that he had anywhere to run to. “Colin, please. Stop.”

Colin shifted properly upright and into his own skin. Had pity enough to step back and look away. “All right, Bradley?” he asked, his tone remote enough to offer Bradley a path out of the mess if he wanted to take it. 

“Um … Well, not really,” he had to admit. Bradley was still standing there, swaying a little. He should probably sit down, but he was afraid if he tried to move anywhere he’d just fall over or something. No sense of balance, that was the problem. Just then, he had no sense of up or down or in-between. 

“For what it’s worth,” Colin said, sitting on the foot of the bed, “that was good.”

“The kiss?!”

“The _scene_ ,” Colin came back at him with – but then he grinned and agreed, “Also the kiss.” He let a beat go by before continuing, “You’re right with all your notes. I like the journey Arthur takes in this.”

“Oh. Good.”

A moment drifted by while Colin pondered. And then he smiled, a big relaxed easy kind of smile, which reminded Bradley that Colin had already put away a few beers that evening. “D’you know what I was thinking, when I first read this script?” Colin asked. 

“No.” Did he _want_ to know? Probably not! “What?”

“I was thinking that Gwen’s not the _only_ character who truly loves Arthur …” Colin smirked.

Bradley rolled his eyes. “Yes, Captain Obvious – who else, then?”

“Gaius, f’rinstance.”

He laughed, but immediately replied, “And I’m gonna give him his due, don’t you worry about that. You wait till you see The Other Scene in the tent. _Love really can conquer all, Gaius!_ There’s no point in holding anything back in this episode, that’s what I figured.”

Colin was grinning up at him happily, though he commented under his breath, “Poor Richard.”

“I’m sure he’s coped with worse,” Bradley said. “Well? Any other instances … ?”

“You know who.” Colin looked beerily sly for a moment. Then he jumped up again, and headed towards the door.

For a panicked moment, Bradley feared Colin was leaving – but really he knew all along what was going to happen next. Which didn’t help the panic.

“Come on, let’s run through it again. I’m Merlin.” And Colin was suddenly switching from cool to eager, from collected to transparent, from experienced to innocent. 

Bradley was gaping even wider this time, though he’d witnessed this transformation a dozen times every day of his working life for the past two years. Eventually he gathered himself enough to nod – and Merlin strode into the tent, on a mission.

_“Ah!”_ said the enchanted Arthur. _“Have you finally come to … to polish my armour? Because you’re several hours too late for that.”_

_“No, Arthur.”_ Merlin was on edge. Determined and nervous, and just the slightest bit overexcited. _“I haven’t come to polish your armour.”_

Despite long experience, Arthur felt disappointed. _“Honestly! I’ve never known such a useless servant.”_

_“Then let me make amends.”_

Colin stepped closer still and – and dropped to his knees at Bradley’s feet! 

“Oi!” Bradley tried to protest. He was afraid it sounded rather like a squeak.

Colin lifted his hands, and mimed all-too-convincingly unbuttoning and unzipping Bradley’s jeans. Those dark blue eyes gazed up at him with perfect sincerity. _“I have to kiss you, Arthur.”_

_“Do you?! I mean: You do! But … my mouth is up here, Merlin.”_

That gorgeous smile kicked up at one side, and Colin winked. Bradley felt as if he’d never been winked at before, not _properly_. It was as if the whole of Colin was sparking with mischief, and Bradley was the powder keg about to ignite. Anything might tip him over the edge at this point. Anything at all.

_“Merlin …”_ he sighed in surrender. 

_“My lord,”_ Colin replied in much the same tones – and then he took Bradley’s hips in his hands, pressed his face against Bradley’s jeans, and began miming an eager suckling motion.

Bradley’s breath stopped – and then he gasped – and in much the same moment it seemed that Colin realised that Merlin wasn’t the only one who was eager. Except that Bradley wasn’t pretending, not any more, and the hard evidence of that could not be ignored. 

Colin stilled, and drew back the barest fraction so that they weren’t touching. He’d let his hands fall away, and his head was down so that all Bradley could see was his mess of dark hair. But Colin stayed close enough that Bradley could still feel the warmth of Colin’s cheek separated from him only by a layer of denim and of cotton, and a whisper of air. 

Eventually Bradley said, “I think I need to sit down.”

Colin looked up at him in sudden concern. “For real?”

“Yes. I was already a bit wobbly on my feet, even before –” 

And Bradley was being walked over to the bed, with Colin’s hands carefully and not-at-all-improperly bracing Bradley’s forearms. Bradley didn’t see why he shouldn’t just go with it. No half measures. Not that night. When they got to the bed, Bradley shifted back and lay down, full length right there on the counterpane, with his head on a pillow. 

“All right, Bradley?” Colin was staring at him, concerned. But behind the concern of a friend, down past the barriers Colin kept locked deep within, there was a hint of something more. It seemed that Colin Morgan had discovered himself to be … intrigued. 

And Bradley had finally realised that Colin wasn’t the only one. 

They stared at each other. Colin’s tongue-tip ran across his upper lip and then he dampened his lower lip by tugging it inside his mouth for a moment, apparently completely unaware of how provocative that was. Then Colin ventured, “D’you want me to –”

“Yes.”

“– be Merlin?”

_“No!”_ Bradley’s sharp response drew a sardonic look from Colin, so Bradley tried to find the common ground. It had to be around here somewhere. “That is – if you want to. Yes. But if you want me –” Bradley groaned a little – “though why would you, I know – then just be you. I mean, not _just_ , but only.” Bradley realised he’d closed his eyes, so he forced them open again and looked up at the man still hovering uncertainly beside the bed. “What I _really_ mean is, let’s finish what we started. If you want to, that is. In whatever way makes you comfortable.”

“For real,” Colin concluded, under his breath.

“Yes. That is, unless you think we’d better –”

“James.”

“Mmm … ?”

“Quit talking, all right?”

“Mmm …” he agreed.

Which gained him the immediate reward of Colin climbing onto the bed, kneeling straddled across Bradley’s thighs, and reaching down to unbutton and unzip Bradley’s jeans for real this time. Colin tugged down the denim and cotton just far enough, no doubt knowing exactly what he was doing – and Bradley’s cock wantonly sprang up into the slightly cool air, all too obviously ready, willing and able. Bradley would have barked out a laugh – sex was always a trifle absurd – but then Colin pounced and encompassed him in warmth, Colin’s tongue rasping wetly down the shaft, chasing down the perfect seal of his lips, and then he shifted up again to suckle at the cockhead while the gloriously clever fingers of one hand fooled with Bradley’s balls. 

Bradley was reduced to crying out inarticulately, and then suddenly batting at Colin’s head in warning, completely incapable of making it last – but Colin settled himself in, holding Bradley down with his free hand heavy on Bradley’s hip – and as Bradley pulsed up into that gorgeous mouth and Colin drank him down, Bradley cried out again as if in pain and felt tears spring to his eyes. 

Colin stayed there, quietly keeping contact while Bradley regathered his senses. Quietly keeping all his tender places warm. 

But eventually Colin let him go, knelt up tall again, and shucked off his shirt, his t-shirt, so he loomed there splendidly bare-chested. “Done this before, James?” he asked, voice as rough as his tongue had been.

“Yes,” said Bradley. “No.”

“Which?” Colin leaned forward to start gathering up the hem of Bradley’s t-shirt, though, not waiting for a proper answer.

“Yes, sex,” Bradley elucidated. “Obviously. Never gone this far with guys, though.”

“No?”

Bradley lifted up to let Colin draw the t-shirt over his shoulders and head and off, then lay back feeling only the slightest tang of self-consciousness. It wasn’t like Colin hadn’t seen this much of him before, and now of course he’d seen even more. _No point in turning bashful,_ Bradley chided himself.

Colin sat back on his heels, with his hands propped on his own thighs, as if needing more information before proceeding. 

The problem being that Bradley had never put this into words before, never told anyone about it. Never discussed it with the few mates and strangers it had happened with. Or _not_ happened with, to be accurate. “Every now and then,” Bradley said, the words slow in forming themselves and dropping from his mouth. “With different guys. A bit of cuddling in front of the telly, or snuggling in a dark corner at a party. A bit of snogging.” He huffed in amusement at himself. “OK, a _lot_ of snogging. But it never went further. Guess it could have done, a time or two. But it didn’t.”

“All right,” said Colin, lifting up again and starting to undo his own jeans. “You’re fine with it going further now.”

“Yes,” said Bradley – though he had absolutely no idea what Colin intended next. Fear flicked through him, indistinguishable from excitement. 

Then Colin was hauling out his tackle, and very impressive it all was, too, and he took himself in hand for long moments, kneeling there over Bradley and letting his head drop back, lost in his own pleasuring. Bradley stared up at him, gaping for England now. This wiry Irishman, with his perfectly honed muscles providing his only curves, and the virile hair running dark down the pale skin of his torso until it thickened around his amazing cock, everything about him either spare or splendid, and undeniably masculine … Colin Morgan with his clothes off and his barriers down was the most beautiful thing Bradley had ever laid eyes on. 

Bradley was just lifting his hands helplessly, wondering if he was allowed to touch, when Colin curled forward, his gaze now meeting Bradley’s – he was so very hungry, and Bradley wanted nothing other than to meet that hunger and answer it. Colin fell forward with his hands propped either side of Bradley’s shoulders, and he was thrusting his cock hard up against Bradley’s stomach while he arched down to meet Bradley’s mouth with his own in a searing hot wet kiss. Bradley’s instinct was to hold on for dear life, and he discovered that his hands were perfectly formed for slipping into Colin’s jeans and shaping themselves to his narrow buttocks, the strong muscle dancing beneath the silky skin as it powered those unrelenting thrusts. 

Within moments – hardly any longer than Bradley had taken, damn it – Colin mumbled “aw fuck, _James_ ” into their kiss – and then threw his head back crying out _“Íosa Críost”_ as his seed pulsed warm and messy against Bradley’s skin. 

The man lay there for long moments once he was done. Still propped up on his elbows, but his head hanging close by Bradley’s, his breath panting loud in Bradley’s ear. Bradley had let go of Colin’s delicious rear, and instead had wrapped both arms around his waist, holding Colin close with all the comfort and reassurance he could muster. 

Eventually, though, Colin peeled away, and fell back to lie on the other side of the bed. Bradley turned his head a little to watch him, feeling a little too cold now, and more than a little bereft. 

They were quiet for a while, with only their breath adding to the neverending hum of a busy hotel. 

Then Colin guffawed, and Bradley remembered that while Colin wasn’t exactly drunk, he wasn’t entirely sober either. What did that mean for what they’d just done? Did it mean anything? Or was Bradley overthinking everything again … ?

With another guffaw, Colin rolled up onto his side, grinning broadly. “Think it’s a fair point a’tually. If Arthur’d needed a True Love Fuck, Merlin’s the man to deliver it.”

“My god, the mouth on you …” Bradley considered the man with equal parts disbelief and awe. “A True Love Fuck? There’s no such thing.”

“Oh, _isn’t_ there?” Colin promptly retorted with a sharply quirked eyebrow. “I reckon if we can have Merlin asking advice from a talking dragon, then it’s not impossible that said dragon might recommend a True Love Fuck.”

Bradley shook his head, though not exactly in denial. “And _I_ think it’s important to remember right now that you’re a whole lot more wicked, Colin Morgan, than poor Merlin ever was or probably ever will be!”

Colin laughed, and the mischief on his face was just so delightful that common sense was banished. Bradley rolled up onto his side, too, so they were close again, right up in each other’s space. And then he dared to push forward and press a kiss to Colin’s lips – a kiss that was returned with pleasing enthusiasm.

So, when the kiss broke, Bradley mustered even more courage and murmured, “What if I want to run lines again tomorrow evening? And maybe the evening after that, as well?”

More laughter – which might have bothered Bradley, if it wasn’t clear that Colin was burbling over with happiness. Not that Bradley was relying on the notion that he, Bradley James, might be the sole or even the direct cause of that happiness. But, oh … it was so very nice to be in the right vicinity at just the right moment. 

“Got to take the work seriously,” Colin replied, with a twinkle in his eye completely undermining the mock gravitas. “Absolutely. If you need to run lines, James, I’m there for you.”

“Likewise,” Bradley promised. “I’m there for you, likewise.” And the kiss was renewed, with interest, and Bradley could imagine nothing in his future that wasn’t the sweetness of Merlin during the day and the earthiness of Colin at night, and … and love, 24/7.

♦


End file.
